


if you're gone, then fade, cause i don't wanna be your ghost

by bittersweetbaby



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Demonic Possession, Don't Show This To Them, Fluff, Ghost Hunting, Human Ryan, M/M, Protective Shane, Ryan is scared shitless, The Author Might Regret Something, buzzfeed unsolved - Freeform, demon shane, demon shane is my fav, leave me alone, shane has like wings n shit idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 18:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16666051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweetbaby/pseuds/bittersweetbaby
Summary: After a few more moments of traveling up a seemingly endless path, the house was in view. Shane let out a low whistle, he'd admit, the house looked terrible. And that's saying something; he's been to Hellor-another protective demon!shane au bc i'm complete trash





	if you're gone, then fade, cause i don't wanna be your ghost

**Author's Note:**

> hi i literally have no idea what i'm doing here. this is my first fic in this fandom, so sorry if the dialogue is shit. (i've never been good at it anyway) i've also never written anything like this before so OOPS 
> 
> ALSO, i completely 100% respect sara n shane's relationship as well as ryan n marielle's. i know shyan isn't real this is just for goofs. 
> 
> so yeah. read on i guess.  
> -nicki
> 
> [title from Ghost by Russo]

The house sat on top of a large hill, looming over the land below it with an eerie aura. A long, dilapidated brick path led up the mount and to the house, crumbling away just like the wooden roof that had once sat proudly on top of the home. 

Barren of nearby civilization, the house sat in the midst of a thick, evergreen forrest, where the wind whistled through the leaves and the branches struck the sides of the house with might. 

The Vallier House was built in 1929, in the very beginning stages of the most well known economic crash the United States has ever seen. The building was once grand with an off-white brick exterior, black wooden window sills and a merry, warm glow that had once peeked from an open door. But any light the house once held, was destroyed by its past. 

Jonathan Vallier was a husband to one, and a father to three. Outsiders would call him the most friendliest man they've ever encountered with his wide-toothed smile and inviting, comical tone. Maybe he was that man once, long long ago, but good things never last. 

Jonathan had lived the wealthy lifestyle of a banker, who never had to live check by check. He'd pay off his mortgage, and have plenty left for a stroll into town. But then the stock market crashed, and the economy was sent into a struggling frenzy. Jonathan lost his job two weeks later. 

Without a job, and the unavailability of any others, the fustration grew, and so did his debt. Vallier spent long nights in the towns bar, drinking away his children's college funds. His debt grew, and so did his anger. 

As the Great Depression lugged on, Jonathan's love for alcohol very rapidly outgrew the love for his family. His wife did her best, trying to put stale bread on the table for her nearly starving children. She'd take the hits her husband bestowed on her fragile body if it meant her children would be spared. She thought it would all be over, that her husband would eventually find another job, and find the love he once had for her, but she couldn't be more wrong. 

On a cold, withering night of September 1934, Jonathan Vallier had spent his day at the bar, and came home to an eviction notice on their doorstep. He staggered into his crumbling home and found his wife packing her bags as she ushered her children to gather their toys quietly. Mrs. Vallier never walked out of that home, and neither did her three children. 

When Jonathan Vallier woke up the next day, he was covered in a crimson mess of his own bloodline. Vallier took one last swing of Jack Daniels, picked up the nearby pistol, and held it to his head. 

 

«•»

Ryan thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel, occasionally running through radio channels, trying to keep his hands and mind busy. Shane raised an eyebrow at the nervous ticks, he could smell the anxiety coming off Ryan in waves, it was almost suffocating. 

Just as Ryan went to mess with the radio again, Shane nudged his hand away from the tuner and turned the volume down a bit. "Got something on your mind, buddy?" 

"No." Ryan bit, sighing as he continued to tap his fingers on the wheel. 

Shane whistled and glanced out the window. Even if he wasn't a demon and could sense lying, he knew Ryan well enough to know he was freaking out. "So you're not thinking about the possible ways we're going to die tonight?" 

"Shut up, Shane." 

"I'm just saying man, this house has a real bad history. Perfect for slimy, little ghosts, right?" Shane teased. 

"Shane." 

He swallowed his laughter and continued his little reign of terror. "I mean, imagine you're just living your daily life as a ghost. You wake up, do a little aimless roaming, a little haunting here and there-" Ryan rolled his eyes, but smiled nevertheless, "And then two, loud idiots come barging in with cameras and recorders. I'd be pissed off, that's for sure." 

Ryan snorted. "So you've finally come to terms that you're an idiot? Took you long enough." 

"You wound me, Bergara." 

"Hopefully Jonathan will do much worse to you." Ryan joked. 

Shane pretended to be confused. "Who?" 

Ryan made a noise of disbelief. "Dude, are you serious? I literally told you about the house like a week ago." 

Shane hummed thoughtfully. Of course he knew about the house, he knew about it way before Ryan even told him. "I don't recall," 

The driver sighed in annoyance, and Shane smirked, waiting for Ryan to give up and tell him the history yet again. 

"Fine. Because you seem to have short term memory loss, I'll tell you again. But only because I want you to know the name of the ghost that finally will make you a believer." 

"Keep dreaming, little guy." 

Ryan made a noise of discontent, but ignored him and started explaining the history of the Vallier house, once again. 

"Jonathan Vallier, killed his wife and three kids during the Great Depression. Then took his own life shortly after. Ring a bell yet?" 

Shane furrowed his eyebrows. "Hmm, not yet. Keep going." 

Ryan tried to sound annoyed, but his amusement shone through his act. Shane could feel how his anxiety had slowly start to dissipate. 

"He was the guy that died with a bottle of whiskey in his hand." 

Shane gasped like he suddenly remembered. "Oh, _that_ guy! I remember him." 

Ryan mumbled something under his breath, and it sounded something like, 'absolute moron' and 'I'm sure you can relate'. Shane grinned at him. 

The open land around them slowly started turning into thick foliage, and Shane felt the unease start to rise back in Ryan. He tried to keep him busy by excitedly talking about the lastest idea he had for The Hotdaga, and Ryan huffed loudly. 

The rental car had veered right, and started up a withering pathway. Ryan started tapping the steering wheel again. Darkness started to fall more quickly. 

After a few more moments of traveling up a seemingly endless path, the house was in view. Shane let out a low whistle, he'd admit, the house looking terrible. And that's saying something; he's been to Hell. 

The car settled to a stop, and Ryan let the engine die as he pulled out the key. The crew had pulled up next to them, riding in a different car since the two of them would be spending the night. Shane wasn't sure if Ryan would even make it that far. 

Ryan unbuckled his seat belt and let out a deep breath. "Alright, lets go hunt some ghouls." 

 

«•»

The inside of the house was just as unforgiving and cold as the outside. Ryan pulled his jacket together a little bit tighter as they walked into the entryway. His heart slowly pounded against his rib cage, filling his senses with dread. 

The air was stale, and smelled of mothballs. Obvious signs of insect infestation littered the wooden floor and stairs. The floral walls were chipping drily, paint specks falling to the unpolished flooring at the slight breath of breeze. The moth eaten drapes winded unceremoniously against the front door as it was shut. 

As they all stood in the doorway, taking in the house, Shane felt his shoulders tense. The perks of being nonhuman were extensive, knowing when there was a threat, was one of them. He immediately felt the death and despair that hung in the air, tasteless and stiff. 

"Okay, so uh, the first body, Vallier's wife, Johannah, was found in the living room." Ryan led the way, Shane couldn't see a spirit hanging around yet, and that made him even more restless. He stood full height and broadened his shoulders, narrowing his eyes. 

They stood in the living room, the dust ridden couches had been covered with white sheets that did little to perseve their integrity. The feeling of unease had begin to thicken, slowly, but surely. Shane knew he had to continue to look unbothered so he wouldn't draw eyes. 

"People have reported feeling unexplainable coldness, hearing whispers, and one guy even claimed something scratched him." Ryan seemed harshly rattled as he looked around the room. 

"Should we break out the spirit box?" Ryan murmured, already digging for it in his bag. Shane nodded, and continued to examine the space around them. 

The harsh static of the radio echoed around the room, and everyone flinched. "If anyone is here with us, make yourself known." Ryan voiced loudly above the noise. 

"What's your name? Is anyone with-" Ryan was cut off as a voice broke the static. 

'G-et o-ut' 

Ryan's eyes widened and he stared at Shane expectantly. "Did you hear that?" 

"Hear what?" 

'Ou-t, G-et ou-'

"What the fuck," Ryan hissed, "you can't tell me that didn't say Get Out." 

Shane knew it said exactly that, but he shrugged and raised an eyebrow. "Sounded a bit like this," And he followed up with ridiculous babbling, trying to mock the static. Out of his preferential vision, he saw a hazy, blue glimmer float around the room, invisible to the naked eye. Ryan shook his head, and instead of turning off the spirt box, he asked it another question. 

"Are we speaking to Johannah?"

Shane made eye contact with the aura known as Johannah, and stared at her with hard eyes. Her eyes widened once she recognized what he was, the fear palpable on her transparent form. No other words followed, just the annoying blur of stations. It was enough to deter Ryan, and he turned it off. "I know what I heard, man." 

Johannah left the room. 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, little guy." They moved to the stairs, and headed up them. 

The next room was one of the children's. The walls were once sky blue, but had turned into a rotting grey from age. A toy ball sat in the middle of the floor on the uprooted carpet. Shane noticed that none of the children seemed to be stuck in the house, and figured they must have been set free. Although his kind are played up to be terrifying, retched creatures, Shane didn't fuck with the killing of innocent children. He squared his shoulders and wondered when they'd meet the spirit of Jonathan. 

"This is where Timothy, the oldest of three, was killed next." 

"Oh, look Ryan, there's Timmy's ball! Wanna bet it'll roll by your name again?" Shane pointed to the toy and laughed at the look Ryan gave him. 

"Shut up, Shane." 

«•»

Darkness had fully entrapped the house now. It was quickly gaining to be midnight. Owls crooned from the nearby trees, and crickets chirped relentlessly around them. The only light source they had were the flashlights in their hands and the lights on their cameras. The crew was setting up to leave for the night. 

They had yet to see the ghost of Vallier, and the only appearance Johannah made was a fleeting run from the room they started to enter. Shane must have scared her off, he shrugged at the thought. 

"I don't know how long I can make it tonight." Ryan said earnestly as they began to set up their sleeping bags in the mastor bedroom, where Jonathan Vallier took his own life. Shane could feel the restless ball of anxiety Ryan was carrying. 

"If we need to leave, we'll leave." Shane promised, smoothing out his pillow. Ryan bit his lip, and lightly pushed his sleeping bag closer to Shane's. He pretended not to notice. 

Shane kicked off his shoes and slipped under his sleeping bag, rolling around for a moment until he found a position that was somewhat near comfortable. He wasn't tired, demons don't necessarily need sleep, but he closed his eyes anyway. It was nice to get in a five minute nap, no matter how he would only dream of endless black. 

Ryan mumbled something under his breath as he wiggled around in his sleeping bag. Shane could hear how fast his heart was beating. It made him want to reach out and wrap a protective arm around the human and let him know he'd never be harmed, not as long as Shane was there. 

About an hour or so later of Ryan's restless moving, he seemed to finally close his eyes and fall into an exhausted nap. Shane knew he wouldn't stay asleep for long. 

He felt a little tense, sensing another form nearby, but he couldn't tell if it carried menace or not. Shane listened to Ryan's breath start to uneven, and he knew it was only a matter of seconds before he'd wake up. Shane’s drifted into subconscious with force, trying to pass time. In seconds, he was in the lightest form of sleep demons could achieve. 

Ryan jumped to when he heard a loud creak that sounded too close for comfort. His heart immediately started pounding. 

"Shane." He whispered loudly. 

No response. 

Another loud creak. Ryan jumped in his sleeping bag. 

" _Shane._ " He whispered more loudly, fear starting to twinge in his voice. 

All he got was a responding snore. 

"Fuck, fuck." Another noise, this time, closer to the room they were camped out in. 

"Do not be afraid, do not be afraid." He mumbled relentlessly under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Then, footsteps. It was impossible to mistake. Ryan felt like he was going to piss his pants. 

"Shane, I swear to fucking God, if you don't wake _up_." Ryan's voice wavered as he gave a sharp nudge to his friend's leg. 

"Wha- I'm up, I'm up." Shane opened his bleary eyes to see a frightened Ryan next to him, staring at the door and out into the darkened hallway with fear. 

"I heard a noise. Actually, I heard lots of noises." 

"Ryan, it's an old house-" 

"If you say it's just the house settling I will suffocate you with your own pillow." 

Shane laughed, throwing his hands up. "Well what else do you want me to do? Go out there and check?" 

Ryan looked at him with pleading eyes. "Could you?" 

Shane hadn't expected him to be serious, but sighed and got out of his sleeping bag, shuffling to the door. 

He peaked out into the hallway, even so much as stepping out of the room to prove his point that nothing was going to get Ryan. 

"See, look. Nothing's out here-" 

Shane was cut off by the cutting sound of a door being slammed shut in his face. He stumbled back a little, not expecting the force. 

Ryan screamed loudly in terror as the door to the master bedroom was whipped to a close and by the look on Shane’s face, it wasn't him. 

"Shane, _please_ open the door!" Ryan was shaking in his sleeping bag. There was no light in the room as he snapped his eyes back and forth to try and catch a glimpse of what was around him. 

"I'm trying!" Shane’s voice was muddled through the wood, and the doorknob twisted pitfully, but didn't open. 

Ryan could hear the roaring of blood in his ears. He fumbled for the flashlight, but as he clicked the on button, no light was to be seen. He opened his mouth to yell again, but was cut off by a sudden, frosting sweep of air that surrounded him. His cry was stuck in his throat. 

Shane pounded on the door, his eyes flashed into a full black sclera, taking away one of his human features, and replacing it with what he really is. 

Trials of light touches pressed onto Ryan's forearm, erupting goosebumps on every inch of his skin. Tears pooled in his eyes as his throat was quickly running raw from his new found screaming of Shane's name. 

"Something's touching me!" Was the last thing Shane heard Ryan sob before everything went completely red. The depths of Hell seemed to pull from Shane's body. All he saw was red. 

A inhumane growl roared in his chest. Long, dagger like claws formed from where his fingers usually reside. He placed his hands onto the door, and with one final push of force, the door exploded, quite literally shattering into pieces. His eyes flashed around the room and there stood Jonathan Vallier, crouched next to Ryan's shaking form with a sneer on its face. 

Ryan was too out of it to notice what was going on. Another sound was pulled from Shane's chest, and it finally got Vallier's attention. 

The spirit looked up, and just as quickly as the smirked had formed, it was wiped away when it saw the pooling black in Shane's eyes, and the massive wings that had sprouted from his back, both invisible to the human eye. 

With one hand raised, Shane growled something low under his breath, and with one final twist, the spirit of Jonathan Vallier had been banished. 

Shane stood there for a second, chest heaving as the anger flourished power began to leave his body, returning his eyes back to normal, and sinking his wings into his back. He finally snapped out of his bloodlust haze when he heard a sniffle. 

Shane was immediately at Ryan's side, wrapped his long arms around the smaller man and pulling him into a crushing hug. Ryan instantly relaxed, knowing exactly who it was. 

"I swear something touched me, I-" He stopped talking, voice still shaky. 

Shane just squeezed him tighter. "It's okay. We're leaving right now. You're safe, Ry." 

They sat like that for a few more moments as Ryan's heart rate slowly started returning normal. This pressure in his chest lifted and he felt like he could breath again. 

Once he raised his head from its place in the crook of Shane's neck, his mouth fell open as he gazed upon the shattered remains of the old, wooden door. 

"You-" 

Shane quickly jumped to an excuse. "It's was an old door Ryan. It kinda just fell apart." 

Ryan looked up at him, not saying a word, before nodding and resting his head back into Shane's chest, listening to his strong heart beat against his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> wasn't that terrible. anygay, pleas consider leaving a comment or kudo, writers strive off feedback ya know. 
> 
> all my love,  
> nicki.


End file.
